


The Craon Incident

by themummersfolly



Category: Henry V - Shakespeare
Genre: 20th century French military, Burgundy hasn't gone off the deep end yet, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Rating for Language, modern-ish AU, team france
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28887039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themummersfolly/pseuds/themummersfolly
Summary: “Figures. Well, this is lovely: handcuffed together in a basement by two ex-employees who hate us. Delightful.”
Relationships: Charles I d'Albret/Marie de Sully





	The Craon Incident

“Thirty-five million _livres_. What is it made of, pure gold?”

“Mm-hm.”

“And we’re to purchase a minimum of twenty! We didn’t spend so much in all of World War Two.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I declare, I’ve never seen this country so criminally fleeced—General, are you listening to me?”

“Of course I am.” General Charles Delabreth didn’t need to look up from his magazine to know that Berry, the Minister of Finance, was glaring down at him. 

“And? Your thoughts?”

Delabreth plucked a card from the pages. “I think I’m going to renew my subscription to _Popular Mechanics_. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it.”

If the intake of breath was any indication, Berry probably looked ready to explode. If there was one thing that could move the old man, it was proposed spending.

To Delabreth’s left, John Bourgogne heaved a sigh. “We’re authorized to one billion.”

“And that woman is going to take every _denier_ of it!”

“We need the planes, Minister.” Delabreth finally looked up from his page. “The _Armée de l’Air_ is in desperate need of an upgrade, especially with England’s saber-rattling.”

“What’s wrong with the ones we already have?”

“They’re obsolete-”

“Well, why can’t we just install new equipment?”

“For all the reasons I outlined at the budget meeting.”

Berry started to say something, but Bourgogne cut him off. “Minister, of those present in the room, which have flown sorties in the past thirty years?” Berry’s mouth snapped shut. “We need between twenty and thirty planes; we’re authorized to one billion _livres_. Please do the math again.”

Delabreth hid his snort of laughter in a polite cough. Bourgogne had earned the moniker “Fearless John” in the Mediterranean campaigns, and had lived up to it throughout his political career. Berry turned on his heel and stalked off to antagonize his staffers.

Bourgogne sat back, fishing in his pocket, and took out a vial of aspirin. “It’s too early for this.”

“You know Berry.” Delabreth closed his magazine. “If he weren’t here in person, he’d only be bawling at President Valois. And Valois doesn’t need that, not so soon out of the hospital.”

Bourgogne checked his watch. “It’s six past. I wonder what’s keeping them.”

“There were emergency vehicles around one of the hangars as we were coming in. There may have been some kind of accident.”

Bourgogne raised his eyebrows. “That requires the CEO’s attention?”

Delabreth was spared having to answer by the sound of footsteps in the hall. He led the others in rising to their feet as the representatives of Craon Industries entered the conference room. At their head was a tall woman in an elegant grey suit, her hair swept into a smooth, auburn knot: Marie Sully, current CEO and daughter of the late founder.

“Good morning, gentlemen, my apologies for the delay. We had an incident in one of the research labs; fortunately no one was injured.”

“An ‘incident’?” Berry seized on the phrase. “Indeed. It must have been severe to delay such an important meeting. Do these sorts of things happen often?”

Delabreth resisted the urge to put his face in his hand. He could almost hear Bourgogne’s blood pressure rising. Sully seemed unfazed.

“The risk is ever-present,” she replied, “which is why we maintain such stringent safeguards. Today, I’m proud to say that everything worked as it was supposed to, and we suffered neither injuries nor losses.”

Berry seemed to deflate slightly. He hadn’t anticipated the answer or the poise with which it was given.

“Well said,” Delabreth offered. “It’s good to know we’re working with someone who places such a high value on safety and security.”

“Thank you, General.” She nodded politely to him. “Now, to business. You’re here to discuss the newest generation of Mirage fighter jets…”

“We’d like to offer Craon Industries a renewed contract for thirty of the new jets.” As usual, Bourgogne went straight to the matter at hand. “Fifteen to be delivered in the next two years, and the rest to follow in five.”

“Minister Bourgogne, you are aware that the manufacturing cost per unit is nearly twenty million livres. And that’s besides the cost for research and development-”

“And I assume you’re aware, Miss Sully, that the Ministry of Defense has several other bidders for this contract?” Berry puffed, back on the attack. “Bidders who are offering a significantly more competitive price?”

Bourgogne’s face took on a blank look of restrained temper. Sully’s smile turned icy.

“Bidders that can produce a competitive replacement for the Mirage III?”

“Yes, and who are patriotic enough to put the needs of the country ahead of their own profits!”

Bourgogne sat down and put his face in his hand. Sully stared at the old minister for a moment, then closed her folder with a snap.

“Well then, I apologize for wasting your time with this meeting. You gentlemen have a lovely rest of your day.” And with that she turned and swept out of the room, her stunned entourage following.

“She’ll be back,” said Berry, into the silence. “You see, that’s what happens when you put a woman in charge. You can’t deal with them like you can with a man, you have to be firm.”

Bourgogne raised his head to glare at him. “Berry, when we get back to Paris, I swear to God…”

“Not in public.” Delabreth cut him off. He turned to Berry. “Shut up and stay here.”

“Where are you going?”

He paused at the double doors. “I’m going to try to undo some of the damage you just did.”

Sully and her team hadn’t gone far; the hall still echoed with their footsteps. The murmur of conversation drifted back, voices fast and sharp.

“Madame! Madame Sully.” He caught up to them at the elevators. “Wait. We didn’t intend to cut the meeting short.”

“Oh? Did you have more insults to heap on my employees and our product?” Sully’s eyes flashed. Several of the engineers shuffled nervously; others glared at Delabreth in a mirror of their CEO’s anger. “Did you think you were going to get a discount that way?”

“Madame, the nation needs these planes, and I’m sure Craon Industries needs the contract-”

“Not that badly. Go talk to your other bidders. Our price just doubled.”

_Ding_. The elevator doors began to slide open. Sully turned on her heel and stopped short. The elevator was already occupied. Two men, one in a business suit and the other in a janitor’s jumpsuit; they had apparently been talking, and looked up with wide eyes at the interruption.

“Shit,” they said at the same time.

Before Delabreth could wonder what that was supposed to mean, both men leapt from the elevator.

“Everybody back! Everybody get back!”

Where the hell had the guns come from? The janitor seized Sully by the arm—her mouth hung open in indignation—while his comrade swept the crowd with a machine pistol.

“Come on-”

“What are you doing—let go of me-”

“Get on the ground! I’m serious!”

“What’s going on out there?” Bourgogne and Berry were in the hall, staring at the scene.

“Stay back!” the businessman screamed and grabbed Delabreth’s sleeve. He had a split second to contemplate fighting back before the cold muzzle of a gun behind his ear put that notion to rest. “I’ll do it! I’ll blow his head off!”

“Everyone stay calm.” Delabreth held out his hands. He was already running the odds, sealing his panic away at the bottom of his mind. “Why don’t you gentlemen let the lady go, and I’ll go with you instead?”

“Shut up!” The muzzle jabbed against his skull and he winced.

“General…” Bourgogne glanced from Berry to the engineers to the gunmen, sizing up relative positions, lines of fire, behavior. Doing the math.

“Easy-”

“Yeah, listen to him.” The businessman yanked him by the arm, dragging him towards the elevator. His cohort had blocked the doors open. “Stay back, stay way back, or they both die! You want that? No? Then stay back!”

Delabreth allowed himself to be pulled past the doors. He made eye contact with Bourgogne and nodded. _Trust me. You do your part, I’ll do mine._ The doors slid shut and sealed them in.

“You bastard, I know you!” Sully had recovered her voice. “You’re that new transfer in finance. I had to sign off on your clearance myself!” She glared at the businessman. The janitor, who stood a full head shorter than her, leveled a pistol at her.

“You want to die, lady?”

“Zip it, Jacques,” the businessman snarled. “And you—both of you—stay calm and don’t give us any trouble, and you get to live through this.”

Delabreth raised his hands. The businessman had an accent—English? Faint, but it was there. “Alright, no trouble.” He glanced at Sully, willing her to play along, but she was still glaring at their captors. “I’m impressed at how far you gentlemen have come. You must be serving a noble cause to have accomplished so much.”

_Ding_. Both captors jumped. From the corner of his eye, Delabreth caught the floor number as the elevator stopped: Basement.

“No trouble,” the businessman repeated. He seized Delabreth by the collar, jammed the machine pistol between his shoulder blades, and marched him into the corridor.

Through the elevator lobby, down a hall, through a side door that led to a service corridor and a downward flight of stairs. They encountered no one, which Delabreth considered fortunate. As they made their way into the bowels of the building, Sully kept up her tirade.

“It was your friend we caught in the labs, wasn’t it? I knew there was something suspicious, the way you’ve been prowling around here after hours. I should have put security on your tail the first time! How long has your little spy ring been planning this? You didn’t plan well enough. He never made it to the first clean room! Francois—is that even your real name?”

They reached the bottom of the stairwell and passed into the empty corridor beyond it. The businessman—Francois—stopped and turned to face her.

“We have two hostages right now, lady. Keep it up and we’ll make do with one.”

Sully glowered at him. Delabreth managed to catch her eye and shook his head.

“Yeah, listen to the big shot, here.” Francois, his hand still twisted in the back of Delabreth’s collar, opened the nearest door and shoved him inside. Jacques and Sully followed. It was an access room for the building’s fire control and air conditioning systems. Delabreth tried to surreptitiously scan for anything they could use to their benefit, while Sully snarled at their captors over the machine noise.

“If you think this is going to bring down Craon Industries, think again.”

“If that were at all compatible with what I’m getting paid for,” Francois snapped back, “I’d do it in a heartbeat.” He motioned with his gun, and the two men dragged their captives into the far corner of the room. “Sit.”

“If you gentlemen would let me make a call—intercede for you—I’m sure we could work something out-”

“I said sit.”

Delabreth found himself forcibly sat down on an overturned crate. Francois produced a set of handcuffs, which he passed behind a pipe running floor to ceiling along the wall. One cuff he clapped around Sully’s wrist, the other around Delabreth’s.

“Stay here. Jacques, watch the door.” Francois peered out of the door, then slipped back into the corridor.

Delabreth tugged experimentally at the restraint. With the bulk and noise of the water chiller between them and their captors, Sully turned her wrath on her fellow captive.

“ _I’m sure we can work something out, you must serve a noble cause,_ ” she said in a nasal mockery of his words. “Why don’t you ask for his hand in marriage?”

“I’m trying to keep us alive,” Delabreth snapped. “Stop making that so difficult!” Sully’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t answer. “If we can get them talking and establish a rapport, we might get some useful information. They might even let their guard down for a moment.”

“And then what? We make a run for it? While handcuffed to the sprinkler feed?”

“I’ll think of something.”

Sully huffed. “I’d have thought a general would show more backbone. But it figures you’d be willing to play along with them—you can always go to whoever they sell the plans to. You’ll probably get your planes cheap from them.”

Delabreth’s anger at the personal jab fizzled out. “You think this is corporate espionage?”

“What else would it be? Our competitors are ruthless bastards.”

“This isn’t corporate. Whatever’s going on here—it’s international. That man Francois? He isn’t French.”

“Of course not, he’s Belgian.”

“He’s not Belgian, either. He’s English. He’s done a lot of work, hiding his accent, but it’s still there. And the way they’re panicking—they’re desperate. They’re not looking at breaking and entering charges, they’re looking at treason.”

Sully gaped at him.

“My God,” she finally managed.

Delabreth glanced toward the door, to where their captor stood. The chiller nearly concealed him, but enough was visible to tell he was turned toward the exit, more intent on his comrade’s return than on his prisoners.

“How good is your security team?”

“You should know. Most of them are veterans of your military.” The truth had been a shock, but it hadn’t dulled Sully’s sharpness. Delabreth nodded.

“And police should be nearby, if not still on site. Bourgogne will have the sense to link them up with our own detail. From there it should be a simple matter of locating and extracting us.”

“You call this simple?”

“As opposed to safe or easy. But he’s got the necessary experience.”

Sully twisted her hand in the cuff. “And us?”

“We stay alive. And glean as much information from them as we can. If they die in a shootout, they take what they know to the grave, and we have no idea how deep this operation goes.”

At that moment, Jacques peered around the edge of the chiller.

“No more chit-chat!” He came toward them. “Either of you get smart and try something, I’ll put a bullet in your skull.”

Sully had apparently taken Delabreth seriously. She swallowed and settled for glaring daggers at the floor.

“We understand,” Delabreth said.

“Better hope you do.” Jacques gestured with his pistol. “You know, bringing you two along wasn’t part of the plan, but I’m glad we did. Especially you.” He jabbed his muzzle at Delabreth, who blinked.

“Do I know you?”

The little man flushed. “You fucker—you’d better!” His voice was rising. “You ended my career! Croci Airbase, five years ago! Ring any bells?”

“Were you… you’re not that fellow they caught stealing ammunition to sell, were you?”

Jacques loomed over him, his face inches away. “I spent a year in that hellhole of a prison! You ruined my life!” He raised the butt of the pistol as if to strike. Delabreth stiffened; Sully must have flinched, because the cuff at his wrist bit painfully into his skin. For a long moment their captor held the weapon upraised. Then he seemed to think better of it. “When Francois says we’re done with you, you’re mine,” he snarled, before stalking back to his post.

The general let out a breath. Sully stared, wide-eyed.

“What, did you have him cashiered out or something?”

“Nobody got cashiered,” Delabreth muttered. “I wouldn’t have remembered it at all except for how angry his commanding officer was when he reported it to me.”

“He obviously remembers.”

“Apparently not well enough, since he’s still at it.”

Sully stared at the ground, tucked her feet close to her crate, smoothed her skirt. Through the handcuff chain, Delabreth felt her shiver.

“Alright, General.” Her voice was tense, but steady. “Tell me what you need me to do. If you have a plan, I’ll follow your lead.”

“Right now all we can do is wait. I don’t think we’ll have much luck talking to Jacques, there; Francois seems to be the voice of reason. It’s just a question of whether he’ll come back before Bourgogne finds us.”

“What happens if he does?”

“Duck and cover, and pray the bullets miss us.”

“Great.” Sully hugged her knees with her free arm.

“Damn, why can’t I remember that fellow’s name?”

“Who, Jacques?”

“Yes—his real name. I should know it.”

“Why does it matter?”  
“It just bothers me when I can’t remember a soldier’s name, even an ex-soldier. I can all but see his papers in front of me, why can’t I… Tobin.” He nodded. “It was Tobin, Corporal Tobin. Can think of his first name, but it wasn’t Jacques.”

“Figures. Well, this is lovely: handcuffed together in a basement by two ex-employees who hate us. Delightful.”

Delabreth’s chuckle died on his lips as their captor took a step back, away from the cover of the machine. The general looked down, careful to avoid his gaze. The situation didn’t seem so humorous anymore.

When “Jacques” had moved out of sight again, Delabreth chanced a look at his fellow captive. Sully stared off into space, a crease between her brows, her mouth pulled down and tight. He felt a pang of remorse.

“I’m sorry you got pulled into this.”

“It was pretty much inevitable once things got started. But you shouldn’t have to be here.”

“If it keeps you from being alone with these two, I can deal with it.”

Sully glanced at him, managed a half-smile. “I appreciate it.”

Delabreth cast about for something else to say, anything to keep the rising dread at bay. “Do you have any family?”

“A son, Georges. By my first marriage.”

“I didn’t know you were married.”

“I was, to Guy Tremoille.”

“I knew Tremoille. A good officer.”

“Well… we didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It happens, I suppose. What about you? Are you married?”

“No. Thought about it once or twice, but it was never meant to be. Besides, I spent the last few decades chasing after my career. Wouldn’t have made me a good family man.”

“But you’re mostly in France, now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, well…”

“It’s not so bad, you know, being married. It just takes work. Any two people can be married, if they’re willing to put in the effort. It’s a bit like a long-term business deal. You have to be willing to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Well, given my most recent experience with business deals, I don’t think I’d be good at marriage, either.”

Sully pursed her lips, thinking. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. And if you hadn’t tried to make things right, I’d be stuck down here alone.”

Delabreth shifted so he was more or less facing her. “We really do need those planes. If we make it through this—if you’re willing—I’d like to start over.”

“Yes, ‘if.’ We can say I owe you.”

“Berry doesn’t have to be in the room.”

“Berry can be in the room, you just have to keep him under control.”

“Indeed. I’ll find a reason for him to send a representative.”

Their captor shuffled half into sight and they fell silent.

Minutes dragged by. The giant chillers, responsible for cooling the rest of the building, did nothing for the utility room, and Delabreth began to feel the weight of his dress uniform. He thought longingly of water, then of the bottle of armagnac in his office.

“When this is over,” he muttered to Sully, “drinks are on me-”

_Rat. Tat._ The shots were barely audible over the machine roar. _Tat, tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat._ Delabreth froze. Their captor ducked out of sight, checking the door.

“God,” muttered Sully. Her hand nudged his; they both glanced down at the cuffs, then Sully slipped her hand into his. “It’s childish, I know.”

“When the bullets start flying, we all turn into scared children.” Delabreth gave her hand a squeeze. He focused on his breathing, willed his racing heart to pace itself. They couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, couldn’t do anything—yet. He could feel Sully shaking from the nerves.

RAT-TAT TATTATTAT TAT-TAT-TAT RATTATTATTAT TAT. Gunfire—close. In the stairwell? Someone clattered and scuffled at the door, and Francois stumbled into sight, clutching his abdomen—bleeding. He collapsed just past the chiller.

“Put down your weapons. Send out the hostages, and then come out with your hands up.” Delabreth didn’t recognize the voice, but he knew Bourgogne’s tactics when he heard them.

“Almost there,” he muttered to Sully.

Francois lay where he had fallen. “Jacques” stepped over him, backing away from the door. He caught sight of the captives and his face twisted. He threw a last glance at the body of his comrade and started their way.

“Not going down like this—this isn’t over-”

Sully let out an “eep” of fear.

“Shut up, bitch!” He swept her with the gun barrel before bringing it to bear on Delabreth. “I’m taking you with me!”

Delabreth stared up the barrel, faintly surprised that he hadn’t felt the bullet yet. His mind entered the surreal focus of battle.

“Put the gun down, Corporal Tobin. You don’t want to do this.”

At the sound of his real name, the man faltered and almost complied. A second later he doubled down.

“The fuck I don’t! I owe you a fucking bullet!”

“You pull the trigger and your life is over. Put the weapon down, surrender, and tell them what you know. I can guarantee you a plea deal—I’m a man of my word.” He felt no more fear than he had discussing the aircraft budget. He had let go of Sully’s hand at some point. All the world shrank to Delabreth, Tobin, and the gun held shaking in the latter’s hands.

“You were in a non-combat post most of your career, weren’t you, Tobin? You’ve never killed before.” There was no censure in the statement, no mockery. “I don’t recommend the experience.”

“I’m not a coward.” Tobin mouthed the words, then screamed: “I’m not a coward!” His eyes bulged. He shoved the barrel at Delabreth’s face- 

Something lashed out from the corner of his vision-

Tobin fell to his knees with a howl, dropping the gun. Sully let go of her shoe—she had struck him with the heel, hard enough to leave a ruddy stain up the side of his knee—and grabbed the weapon.

“Die in a fire, bastard!” she yelled, struggling to get a proper grip without sweeping Delabreth. He seized the opportunity and kicked out, catching Tobin in the head, dropping him.

“Is he dead?” Sully panted. She had finally gotten the pistol grip into her hand.

“Hell, I don’t know. If he moves, shoot him.” Delabreth grabbed the front of Tobin’s jumpsuit and tried to pull him closer. “He must have a handcuff key—Bourgogne, hold your fire! We’re alright!”

“I’ll get us loose.” Sully pulled the handcuff chain taught, put the barrel to the links.

“No, that’s not a good idea-”

_BANG_. Delabreth jerked back and toppled off his crate, one half of the cuffs still on his wrist. The bullet had taken a chunk out of the wall. He ran his hands over his body, feeling for shrapnel wounds: nothing. Sully sat dazed, blinking at the weapon in her hand.

“Are you hurt?” he shouted over the ringing in his ears.

“What?” She shouted back.

_Bourgogne—he’ll have heard the shot._

“Watch him,” he gestured to Sully. She nodded, kicked off her remaining shoe, and trained the gun on the unconscious man. Delabreth ran forward and seized the machine pistol Francois had dropped.

“This is Delabreth! The scene is secured. I’m opening the door.” Without taking his eyes off Francois, he pushed open one half of the double doors. Almost immediately an armored security agent filled the gap. Delabreth backed away while others entered the room, sweeping it for threats.

“Sully’s there.” He jerked his head. “She’s not hurt. She’s got the other subject.”

“You took your time,” Sully called, still louder than was necessary.

“Madame, if you please.” One of the officers held out a hand warily, beckoning for her gun. Everyone was still jumpy.

“What? Oh—of course.” She turned the weapon and handed it off.

“Are you injured?”

“Oh, no, no. Although my shoes have seen better days.” An officer stooped to retrieve them and she waived him off. “I suspect you’ll want those as evidence.”

Ignoring their confused looks, she stepped around Tobin’s prone form and joined Delabreth. He had just handed off his own weapon when Bourgogne entered the room.

“Charles—thank God! I thought you were a goner for sure.” He glanced between the two, taking in the broken handcuffs, the confiscated weapons, the fallen attackers. “But it looks like you had things sorted out on your own.”

“You came just in time, Bourgogne.” Delabreth noticed Sully was shivering. He took off his jacket and settled it around her shoulders. “I’m ready to give my statement as soon as there’s an investigator ready to take it. You should do the same,” he added to Sully.

“Certainly. And we need to schedule a time to complete the negotiations.”

“The-” Delabreth and Bourgogne stared at her.

“Regarding the planes,” she prompted.

“Ah. Well...” Bourgogne glanced between the two again. Delabreth shook his head.

“There’s no hurry, madame. You been through a lot today.”

“Oh pish, I won’t give these wretches the satisfaction. We can meet tomorrow if you’re still in town. Or tonight, if you don’t mind settling things over drinks.” Her smile was warm, almost cheeky.

“Well, I think we should hold off signing anything until we’re all a little less rattled, but I don’t see why you two can’t conduct your own, er, private negotiations.” Bourgogne’s smile absolutely was cheeky. Sully was gracious enough to overlook it.

“I do owe you drinks,” Delabreth admitted.

“Bourgogne, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Oh, I might stop by for a bit, but I’d hate to be a third wheel.”

“I’ll see you at eight, then, shall I?” Sully reached out and took his hand, his free one this time. To his own surprise, he raised it to his lips.

“Until then, Madame Sully.”

“Marie.” She smiled. “Between us, it’s Marie.” She handed him back his jacket and turned to the door. “Inspector—it is inspector, isn’t it? Good, I need to reassure my people. Shall I do that before or after I give my statement? Oh, and there’s a pair of flats in my office, if you’ll be so kind as to send someone to get them...”

Delabreth stared after her. Bourgogne circled behind him, chuckling.

“Nothing like a little hand-to-hand combat to smooth things over, eh?”

“You can tell Valois not to worry. I think we’re going to get those planes after all.”

“I think you’re going to get a lot more than planes.” Bourgogne smirked and shook his head. “You know, most men usually stick to flowers and chocolates when they want to impress a woman. Valois was right about you; you always were a little over the top.”


End file.
